


Displacement

by Oof_Sha_Boof



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oof_Sha_Boof/pseuds/Oof_Sha_Boof
Summary: Amara is stuck in a world where the sky is red and the people have four fingers. Still, she is grateful for the hospitality of the Membrane family as they figure out a way for her to go home.
Relationships: Professor Membrane/Original Character(s), Professor Membrane/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Amara voiced her doubts once more as they approached the metallic, large house, so different amongst the cookie-cutter homes of the neighborhood. The coiling feeling within her stomach tightened as adrenaline died down, rationality and doubt overtaking her mind. They should tell his dad about her situation, at least prepare him with the idea that a stranger was coming into his house.

However, Dib insisted “That it wouldn’t matter” and “don’t worry about it” while pulling her through the front door and past the living room, where his sister merely looked up from her game to regard the woman with a raised eyebrow.

“Dad is _so_ going to kill you when he finds out.” She mumbled and returned to her game.

Dib scoffed, guiding the older woman up the stairs. “Whatever, Gaz.”

The sky is red, and the people name their children Dib and Gaz, Amara thought with a shake of her head as Dib showed her the spare bedroom.

The room was decorated much like the rest of the house. The walls were dark and pristine, while the furniture followed the same minimalistic, modern design of the other rooms they walked past.

It was impersonal and bleak, the room itself seemed to suck everything out of the room.

“Dad had planned on turning this room into a library-office thing but got distracted with work, so for now, it’s the guest room slash storage space.” Dib said, moving into the room and began to stack the boxes and other paraphernalia into a vacant corner. “We can move the rest of the stuff later. Anyway, here’s the bed, the dresser, and the desk. You know, your standard stuff. The bathroom is to your right – oh! You need a toothbrush and towel, right? Let me get those for you.” And bolted out of the room.

With a sigh, Amara settled on the bed and thought about the clothes on her back and the items in her carry-on pack. The pack itself leaned against the bed, carrying her few personal items along with now invalid credit cards and money. The plunging feeling only worsened when she turned on her phone and pressed the call button, only for the machine’s voice to answer.

Dib returned, carrying the toiletries, but stopped at the sight of Amara, slumped against the edge of the bed. A curtain of dark hair shadowed her face.

He approached carefully, “Um. Ms. Amara? I brought you the stuff.” And set the items at the end of the bed.

Lifting her head, dark eyes peaked between the strands with a watery smile.

“Thank you, Dib.” She said softly. Straightening, she wiped a hand against her face but remained seated.

Dib shifted his weight and turned a searching gaze across the room. His own uncomfortable feelings began to worm its way into his chest again.

“I’m really sorry about what happened.” He said and pat her shoulder. The attempt to comfort was awkward but well-meaning.

“It isn’t your fault, Dib.” Amara said evenly, quick to swallow the despondent lump in her throat.

“Right… but if I was maybe just a second earlier then Zim wouldn’t have accidentally teleported you here.” At the reminder, Amara groaned and fell back against the bed.

“This might actually be a good thing.” Dib said optimistically. “Now I have someone that can help me prove that aliens actually exist!”

“I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I don’t think anyone would prioritize the words of someone who’s not supposed to exist in this reality. I’m just as much of an alien as that weird, bug guy”

Frowning, Dib agreed to the rational. Still, the fact that the first adult to believe him could not do much to help was disheartening.

“Besides, if I see that green bug thing again, I will drop-kick it into the atmosphere.” She said and Dib leaned away, nervously.

“It’s probably not a good idea. We need him alive so he can rebuild the machine.” He said with a critical tone. “and then, of course, I’ll need to dissect him.”

Amara hummed, gazing at the ceiling. The dull beating behind her eyes fills the silence.

“Why don’t you just talk to your dad about the bug guy. You said he’s a scientist, right?” She asked. “Couldn’t he do something about it?”

At the thought of his dad, a familiar buildup of frustration returned. Looking down at his hands, he grasped them tightly. “I’m not sure he’ll even believe me – hasn’t so far.”

Leaning back on her arms, Amara regarded the boy with a raised brow. “Well, do you know when he’ll be home? We should at least explain to him that a strange woman is staying in his house.”

“Dad works late at the labs. He might not even come home till morning if he is not here at dinner. Besides,” Dib shrugged. “I doubt he’ll notice your even here.”

Amara doesn’t let the conversation linger, claiming exhaustion and the desire to sleep, so Dib goes downstairs to have dinner.

True to the child’s words Professor Membrane was ignorant of Amara’s existence when he came home that night. Granted, she trapped herself in the guest room, curled up in a ball, blankly staring at the metal ceiling.

Dib came later in the evening, with a plate of food that he set quietly.

“Were you able to talk to your dad?” She asked, spooning the mashed potatoes. Taking a bite, her expression soured, and she set the spoon on the plate.

Dib shook his head, “He’s working on a project right now and is in one of his scientist moods. Just walked into the house and straight into his lab. I won’t be able to see him until tomorrow. Is something wrong with the food?”

“Nah, I think it’s just my mood, messing with my taste buds.”

“Right. Sorry about that. Again.” He said, shrinking into himself.

When night came, and the house was filled with the silence of sleeping breaths and strange creaks, Amara rose from the bed, taking careful, light steps.

But the plate of food, still resting on the desk and cold, did not appeal to her. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a candy bar and ate it in three bites. It was followed by regret when the chocolate and sugars met an empty stomach. Amara settled back onto the bed and endured.

Morning came slowly.

Dib placed a plate of toast and cream cheese on the desk.

“I promise I’ll talk to him after school.” Dib said. Her appetite was not better, and the plate was left with the other. “Dad’s at work right now so I won’t be able to see him until this evening.”

“Dib, we’re going to be late.” Gaz yelled from downstairs, which he responded with a coming.

Amara drifted with eyes closed after the resounding thud of the door.

Time passed and fatigued with restless sleep, found that the self-aware feeling of grime and dirt was distracting and treated herself to a shower. After working the shower nozzle, she stripped and stepped into the downpour of hot water.

With warm showers came clear thoughts, and despite providing a comforting feeling, reality and pessimism were seeping back into her thoughts.

There was a chance Dib’s dad wouldn’t let her stay in his house, and she would be kicked out to the streets. Though it was not her right to receive hospitality, Amara really didn’t know what to do if she was homeless. She had no money and no legitimate identification papers, so finding a job seemed out of the option.

Then there was the whole going back to her reality which seemed impossible the longer she thought about it. Didn’t want to think about if she were being honest (it would force her to reevaluate her understanding of fundamental physics). While Dib reassured her that he would assume responsibility for the situation and ‘take care of everything’, she really shouldn’t rely on a child. 

When she stepped out of the shower, the time on her phone told her an hour had passed. Clearing the condensation on the mirror, Amara regarded the tired look in her eyes, the purple bags contrasting with her olive complexion, red and patchy, and damp from the shower. She realized that the extra pair of clothes Dib had snuck in remained on the bed. With an annoyed click of her tongue, she exited the bathroom, watching the steam follow her out, and moved to put on her clothes.

Perhaps if she wasn’t so lost in the train of her thoughts, or sluggish from the fitful night of sleep, she would have heard the heavy thuds of boots coming up the stairs and toward her room. Instead, she placed the towel down and moved to put on the clothes.

With a forceful bang the door opened, and Amara screamed, rushing to cover herself.

“Intruder!” The baritone voice that belonged to a hulking figure in white said.

He halted at the sight of the woman, dressed in only her underwear, black locks damp from the shower, and desperately pulling a familiar shirt in a show of modesty.

“Oh dear, please forgive me.” And promptly closed the door.

On the verge of tears, her heart hammered in beat to the droplets of water falling onto the carpet. Arms still wrapped tight around her; Amara gave a shaky exhale.

“What a second!” The door slammed against the wall. “What are you doing in my house!?”

Amara screamed louder.

* * *

When Dib returned home to find his father’s car parked in the driveway, he had hoped to avoid his presence and go straight to Amara. Instead, his father was waiting for them in the living room, sitting on the couch with crossed arms. Across from his was Ms. Amara, holding a cup of tea, her head cocked towards Dib and Gaz when they entered. The whites of her eyes were pinked, and her cheeks looked flushed.

Dib shifted his attention between the two adults, silent.

“Hello, son.” His father said, all too cheerily. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”


	2. Chapter 2

In the silence of the living room, pressured by the expectant stares of his dad, his sister and Ms. Amara, Dib’s thoughts were in a panic.

With a mind capable of creating thousands of elaborate plans to trap a cryptid or reverse-engineer an alien spaceship, Dib was a smart kid. However, that genius was often paired with a determination and impulsivity that _historically_ turned hills into mountains. This situation was no exception.

So, Dib had to acknowledge the embarrassing truth that he did not have a valid excuse as to who Ms. Amara was or why he decided to hide her in the spare bedroom.

Quick to solve this issue, Dib’s mind offered two paths. The young boy could tell the truth, revealing to his father that in Zim’s efforts to conquer the earth he had built a machine meant to bring forth the most terrifying creature in the multiverse, become a servant to Zim, and conquer the Urth. However, something went wrong and from the swirling portal came Ms. Amara, dazed and confused.

But Dib knew his father would never believe the alien part and could boot Ms. Amara from the house as a result. Removing Dib’s one and only connection to the physical proof of aliens.

The other path that Dib’s mind revealed was to lie, but as the clock ticked on, he remained stock-still. Staring blankly, nothing came to mind.

“Well, you see-” He began in an effort. Only to be interrupted by Gaz.

“Dib was doing an experiment _for science_.” She lied easily. “sometime in the storm and in the power outage last night he accidentally opened a portal across the multiverse and brought her into our world.”

Dib shifted nervously from his sister to his dad, watching their aloof expression. Amara gripped the teacup tighter.

“Right. I was trying to prove a theory I had but something went wrong with the machine and – well...”

“Oh, is that all?” Their father said pleasantly. The magic words had been spoken and Dib’s shoulders relaxed. “Ms. Amara tried her best to explain but I still thought we were having an incident like with the undead again.”

“That was one time.” He defended but was wholly ignored.

“It would certainly explain why you look so strange.” Dib’s dad turned his attention, moving to grab Amara’s free hand. He stared intently at her _five-fingered_ hand, gently manipulating her ring finger. He was fascinated by the reaction of her tendons and muscles.

The flush on her cheeks deepened. “Do I really look that strange?”

Thoughtful, Dib observed her features. She certainly _looked_ human, had all the right features for a human, a pair of eyes and ears, a nose, and a mouth. She had long, dark hair and dark eyes framed by dark lashes.

However, there was a peculiarity to her features. A softness and glow that he had never seen in another human. A paradox of natural and unnatural. If Dib did not know that she was a human from another reality, he would have suspected her to be a supernatural creature. Like a siren, or nymph, or maybe even a vampire with how straight and white her teeth are.

“I guess.” He shrugs, which earns him a laugh, much to his confusion.

“I could say the same thing about you guys.”

“Great. Glad everything’s good. I’m out.” Gaz called and began to move upstairs, Gameslave in hand.

“Not so fast, young lady.” There was a sternness to their father’s voice that halted the pleasantness in the room.

“Seeing as how Dib ‘ _kidnapped’_ Ms. Amara from her universe. I think it appropriate that you both take responsibility and help Ms. Amara.”

“Why me?” Gaz called out, shaking.

“Because you felt the need to withhold the fact that Ms. Amara was in our house. So, no Game Slave tonight, and Dib, you’re grounded for the week.” Their father said simply, and Dib shifted as his sister muttered curses upon him.

“As for Ms. Amara, I would first like to apologize for the actions of my children. It is obvious that the past few days have not been kind to you, and you are more than welcome to stay in our house until I can find a way for you to go home.”

Amara was relieved, giving him a watery smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Dib, Gaz, keep our guest comfortable while I head down into the lab.”

At this Amara’s smile fell. “What…?”

“A human from another universe is a once in a lifetime opportunity for science, Ms. Amara. SCIENCE!” He yelled passionately and with hulking steps was out of the living room. “I must prepare for my research. I’ll see you all at dinner.”

* * *

When he left, the girl, Gaz, mumbled something dark and settled herself on the couch, scrolling through the channels of the large tv.

Dib, taking note of the improved situation, rushed toward her with an interrogation’s worth of questions.

Amara sets the tea down, cold and untouched, and tells him what had happened after the professor found her.

She doesn’t tell him how she, overexposed and embarrassed, burst into fat, ugly tears. Or how the Professor, with his hulking figure, attempted to console her, painfully tone-deaf. Or that after introductions, apologies, and explanations (as fragmented as they were) the grown adults had settled in awkward silence. Waiting for the children to come home, Amara looked at anything but him.

Dib nodded at the information, browse critical and thinking. The information Amara had given was satisfactory, and Dib’s dad remained ignorant of the truth of the alien’s involvement. With a plan bubbling in the back of his mind, the conversation shifted toward other interests.

He asked about anything he could think of – things about her reality, its cryptids, and monsters. Amara was surprised at the ferocity of the questions, but she answered, glad for the distraction.

Dib, pleased to have a willing audience for once, had continued the conversation to the dinner table. At that point, they were comparing the different cryptids of their realities.

Amara, now relieved of her most pressing concern, felt the stress that consumed and filled her to empty and become a painful hunger. She had not eaten anything filling since the portal and was reminded of that mistake throughout the afternoon. When the robot, Foodio, presented dinner, Amara’s starvation was painful enough that she did not dwell on the robot for long. She heartily dug in, only to be met with disappointment when the first bite had a terrible, awful sourness to it.

It was a deceptively normal dinner - boring even - with its mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and meatloaf. It smelled good when placed in front of her, and the others looked to have no problem eating it.

Not to seem rude, she continued to eat at a more controlled pace.

“Son, you shouldn’t bother our guest with such questions.” Said the professor, with his looming white presence. “You should ask her more _scientific_ questions. Like how many kilometers per second her Earth orbits the sun. Or how the quantum effects impact her reality on the atomic level?

To Amara, the taste was getting worse, and the sourness in her stomach increased.

Maybe her mood was affecting her taste buds? It’s happened before. In those moments, it was best to power through.

She coughed and drank some water. “I don’t mind. Really. I’m a bit of a fan of mysteries and mythologies myself. Though I’m not a scientist or engineer, so I can’t really answer the more science-heavy questions.”

There was a clenching feeling in her stomach that Amara recognized. To distract herself she focused solely on the Professors voice.

“Oh.” Came his smooth baritone. “And might I ask what you do?”

Now, this was a line of questioning that she was familiar with, and she gladly answered. “Well, I work as an operations manager at a tech company.”

He perked up in a manner like Dib, but whatever he said was falling on death ears.

The sour feeling in her stomach was overwhelming and had brought a concerning amount of saliva in her throat. A warning that Amara was familiar with.

“Um, where is the bathroom?” She asked behind a polite hand.

“Down the hall to the left.” Gaz said, the first thing this whole dinner.

Amara thanked her and bolted, slamming the door open and emptying her stomach into the toilet.

She heaved a few more times into the bowl, one hand grabbing the rim tightly with whitened knuckles. The other pulling her hair back.

Finally, she pulled away, dry heaving, and leaned against the wall. Ashen and shaky, dark brown eyes regarded the children that lingered in the doorway.

* * *

The path to the Professor’s lab is a blur. All Amara remembers is the cool feel of a latex glove against her forehead, and vague images of the metallic flooring leading to the impressive room. Large screens built into the wall displayed her health statistics in many lines and colorful dots. Scientific equipment spread out across a table bubbled and flashed with unknown answers.

With her stomach emptied and spinning ceased, Amara leaned back on a medical chair as strange devices poked and prodded at her.

The professor hunched over his work would occasionally mumble a “fascinating” and “unbelievable”. He observed the contents of a glass vial, lifting it into the light, watching the colors change, and observing it under the microscope light. The same vial filled with her stomach acid that the Professor got from the _toilet._ Amara wanted to gag at the sight.

“Truly incredible!” He exclaimed and Amara jumped. Spinning around, with large, heavy steps he approached and leaned in close to Amara’s face. She stared at her warped, dual reflection from his goggles

“Your carbon makeup is completely different from the atoms that are in our composition. As a result, the digestive cells lining your stomach are unable to breakdown your enzymes and rejected the food.”

“Wait? What! Does that mean she’s going to die?” Dib yelled, concerned for all the wrong reasons.

“No idiot. The food from our world is giving her food poisoning.” Gaz simplified. “Because she’s not made of the same stuff we are.”

Amara groaned in misery.

“Not to worry.” The professor reassured. “I can easily synthesize something that is more accommodating for your stomach. Especially now that I have this!” And held up a half-eaten granola bar from her carry-on pack. The one Dib had brought down at his father’s request.

The same bag that she had desperately clung to as she was pulled suddenly into a psychedelic hellscape portal and thrown into another world. Because her laptop took priority, and no thief was taking it from her. Her other bag, with three days’ worth of clothes for a work conference, pajamas, and toiletries, were abandoned in the scuffle. It might still be resting in the middle of the apartment hallway.

It was a rather depressing sight, staring at the only worldly possessions she owned. She supposed that this was what disaster victims felt like when their livelihoods were ripped away from them.

Gaz, staring at the items, exposed and spread out across the table, found her attention fixated on one item. “What’s that?”

“Oh. That’s my Switch.” Amara looks over and turns on the device, showing the children the home menu.

“Let me see it… please.” Gaz said and Amara hands it over. Something in her eyes glimmered as she marveled at the device. Dib hovered over his sister’s shoulder; his own interest piqued.

“Hey, let me have a turn.”

“No way.” And pulled it away. Dib chases after her as they argue. Gaz gains the upper hand by tripping her brother. Amara worried for the safety of her device.

The Professor, who had gone off to another table, returned with a steaming bowl. “Drink this. It should settle your stomach.”

Amara cupped it between her hands, the disarming smell of chicken broth and the soft gurgle in her stomach has her swallowing the broth. There isn’t any bitterness like with the dinner, in fact, it had almost no flavor. However, the heat forces her pace to be controlled and when she’s done the bowl is handed back to dark gloves. 

“But in all honesty, I am worried about anything else that might be affecting your body. It’s earlier than I planned, but we should start the testing tomorrow. Just to make sure nothing else is harming you.”

While the Professor is listing his procedures and his children’s argument provides background noise, Amara is beginning to develop a cold sweat. She’s clenching her stomach to be strong, but the strain of not eating for two days and the broth itself have her bolting out of the chair. She empties her stomach in a bin and wipes a hand across her mouth.

“How soon did you say you could start the tests?”


End file.
